


The New Place

by fightforyourwrite



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Mike Zacharius owns a Flower Shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 07:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12700314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightforyourwrite/pseuds/fightforyourwrite
Summary: In which one of them judges Chopin competitions for middle schoolers, the other owns a flower shop, and both of them are on the floor.





	The New Place

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of related to my own Yumikuri fic [The Regulars.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11855676)
> 
> It's set in the same universe. Mike owns a flower shop and Historia works there part-time. She's not in this fic, but I feel that this is worth mentioning.

There were a lot of things that Mike liked about running his flower shop. Though it wasn’t as physically tedious as the other jobs he had worked in the past, it still challenged him in newer ways every day. 

Even as hard times came, there were at least a few things that helped motivate Mike to keep the place afloat, like the lovely scent he was surrounded in every day. It brought memories of his childhood back to him, even though some aspects of the place had changed over the years.

There was also the way ‘ **Zacharius’s Flowers** ’ was painted onto the front window in lovely cursive. Investing in an appealing sign was a choice Mike did not regret making. 

Then there were his regulars, the people who came in once and kept coming back again afterwards. 

Mike quite liked his regulars. 

Some were predictable, like the guy who bought peonies for his wife on every third Thursday of the month, or the woman who liked to adorn her apartment with roses every other week. 

Then there were others, the regulars who liked to change things up upon every new visit. 

A part of Mike liked those regulars just a little more. 

Though he was focused on filling out paperwork, he did occasionally look up at the woman currently browsing the products of his shop. 

He knew that he had seen her in the place before, as there was something familiar about the shade of blue in her eyes. Mike was sure that he had seen that head of blonde hair somewhere before, even if it was covered by a green beanie and stuck up on the edges in short strands. 

Mike knew her name, though only to extent. He recalled writing  _ ‘From Nanaba’ _ on a tag attached to a bouquet of violets nearly a month ago. Mike didn’t know that he had even remembered her name until she came walking through his door. 

Mike finished scribbling his signature onto his document when he looked up for what had to be the fifth time. He noticed Nanaba focusing greatly on a bucket of red flowers.

“Watch the floor,” Mike spoke in a cautious tone. 

Nanaba looked away the flowers and over to him, “Excuse me?” 

“The floors are a bit wet,” Mike rephrased, coming up with a better way to form him words. “I mopped just before you came in.” 

“Oh... good to know,” Nanaba responded, nodding. She flashed a quick glance to the floor, then over to the yelling warning sign propped up just a few feet away. 

Mike put his pen down and straightened his back, a welcome relief from bending over the front counter for too long. Carefully, he walked out from behind the said counter and into the main area of the shop. 

“Anything I can help you with?”

When he got close enough to her, Nanaba had to turn her head upwards to meet his eyes. 

“A recommendation would be good,” Nanaba concluded. “I’m in a bit of a rush though.

Mike nodded, “Understood. What are you buying for?”

“Youth music competition,” Nanaba answered. She looked over to some peonies before turning back up to Mike.

Mike raised an eyebrow, only slightly more perplexed than he usually was on the average day. 

“I’m judging a Chopin competition, the winner is to be handed a bouquet after being announced,” Nanaba clarified. “First time judging, so I’m on flower buying duty.” 

Nodding, Mike started to comprehend what she was talking about. “Hm…” He looked down to the bucket of flowers Nanaba had been staring at, “If you’re in a rush, then you can’t go wrong with roses.” He pointed up to a shelf, “Or carnations, those tend to be popular. Though I will warn you, they’re funeral flowers.”

Nanaba held mindfulness in her eyes. While she was strapped for time, she did seem to be putting care and consideration into what she was doing. It was like it was habitual for her to do so. 

“I’ll take the roses, a dozen,” Nanaba decided. “It’s a competition for middle schoolers, I don’t think they really care about the flowers.” 

“Roses it is then,” Mike agreed. 

Promptly, he knelt down to the bucket on the floor and grabbed exactly twelve. Then he made his way towards the counter of the store and got to work. 

Mike was quick to wrap the flowers. He used a sheet of cellophane, another of patterned paper, and a piece of string to tie it all together. It was a task that Mike was sure he could do in his sleep, seeing as half his childhood years were spent around flowers. 

Nanaba was waiting at the counter. She had placed a twenty dollar bill on the counter and was watching Mike as he worked. 

“This is a nice shop you’ve got here, by the way,” Nanaba told him. “I come to it when I can.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Mike responded. He was in the middle of tying the string around the wrapped flowers. 

Nanaba looked quizzical, “You do?” 

“I’ve got a few regulars, it’s easy to pick up faces eventually,” Mike explained. 

Nanaba nodded, “Oh… well, alright then.” She shook her puzzlement off quickly and changed the subject. “How long have you been here?” 

Mike shrugged, “Two years. Two and a half by now I think…”

Only a while ago, Mike was working construction and living outside of the city. It felt like he had only returned recently, the memories of a different place were still fresh in his mind. But yet, two and a half years had come and gone with the wind. 

It was fascinating to find that time never found a reason to stop. A part of him yearned for his older life, but another was happy to embrace the new. 

“My father actually started this place years ago, but it was all the way on the other side of the town,” Mike continued. He placed the now wrapped flowers onto the counter in front of her. “Five years ago, he decided to move it here. Then a bit after that, he calls me up, says he’s retiring to raise goats in the up in the boonies, and then asks if I want to take over the shop.” 

Nanaba was nodding, “And I take it that you said yes.” 

“I did,” Mike confirmed. He rung up her order and took her twenty off the counter. “It’s not the same as the old place, but it’s something.” 

There was a unkempt quality to the old place, a little more dust, a little more grime here and there. The new place was a whole lot cleaner. That was one of the reasons why Mike was sure that he liked it a lot more. 

Though it was strange to acknowledge the end of the original shop. Mike had grown up in that place. There were years where he needed a stool to see over the counter while his dad worked the register and there were even more where he didn’t. 

Perhaps he needed a break from the old place. It was a small, compressed piece of space and it never let Mike truly grow. Mike always saw construction as a good career for him. Seeing as he stuck with it for years after graduating high school, it was clearly something he was good at. 

Nevertheless, there was nothing wrong with returning to his original roots. Nowadays, instead of working a crane, he was doing what he had always done as a child and selling flowers in his father’s shop. Albeit, without his father’s presence. 

“I like it though,” Nanaba claimed. She looked around the shop, from the various flowers to the wind chimes he had hung in the corner. “It’s got charm.”

Mike smiled. He wasn’t sure why, but in knowing that Nanaba was likely the reason for it, he didn’t worry about it. 

He handed her the change from her twenty but Nanaba only reached for the flowers. 

“Keep the change,” she said. With the flowers in her hands, she bid him farewell. “I’ll see you later then…” She looked at the nametag on his apron. “... Mike.” 

“And you too, Miss…?” 

“Nanaba,” she quickly confirmed. “Just Nanaba. It’s my first name.” 

Mike nodded, “I had a feeling. I just wasn’t sure.” 

“Now you are,” Nanaba said, nodding her head. “I’ll see you around then.” 

She turned around and headed for the door. Almost immediately, the soles of her shoes lost grip on the wet floor below, causing Nanaba slip. 

Needless to say, she yelped as she tumbled down. Perhaps she had gotten off easy by landing on her bottom and not her head. 

“Shoot,” Mike muttered. As swiftly and carefully as he could, he made his way to Nanaba. “Sorry about that.” He knelt down to her, “Are you hurt?” 

“No, but my pride is,” Nanaba muttered. The impact had caused her roses to fall on the floor, as well as the beanie on her head. 

Mike picked up the flowers off the floor and handed them to her.

“Thank you,” she said lowly. She grabbed her hat and placed it on her head. 

“Can you stand?” Mike asked. He straightened his legs a bit to get into more of a lifting position. 

“I can,” Nanaba responded. She glared down to the black dress shoes on her feet. “I knew that these things would be the death of me one day.” 

“No, it’s just the floor,” Mike claimed. “It hates to cooperate. In fact, my employee slipped on this just last week.”

With a secure grasp, he took Nanaba’s hand and helped her get onto her two feet. It was a swift movement and she back to standing in no time. 

“Can you walk?” he asked. 

“I think so,” Nanaba confirmed. “It’s just a fall, I’ll survive.” 

“Alright, be careful then,” Mike said. He was looking into her eyes, as was she. He hoped that she was okay, he hated seeing people getting hurt if he could help it. 

In moments, he looked away from her and down and soon realized that he was still holding her hand.

Embarrassed, Mike let go as quickly as possible. He took his hand away and tried to ignore the heat rushing to his head. 

“Thanks again for everything,” Nanaba said. She was taking shallow breaths. “Now I really gotta go. I think I’ve bothered you enough already. I’ll see you later.”

“You too.” 

With that, she was gone. She turned around and walked (more slowly) to the door. Soon she was out of the shop. She went into the city and walked down the street until she disappeared from sight. 

Mike sighed. He had fumbled with customers before, but most mess-ups didn’t end with him feeling a lingering heat in his heat or a tingling in his hand. His heart was beating faster than it usually did, something that didn’t often happen inside the walls of his shop. 

Calmly, Mike turned around and headed to the counter.

Somehow, even though Mike walked as cautiously as he could, he just had to slip on the wet floor and tumble down for himself. 

Needless to say, Mike yelped. 

He guessed that he was lucky that he didn’t land on his head, though the aching on his bruising elbow made him think otherwise. 


End file.
